Visions in Death (In Death #19)(49)

"And if someone could... gain access to her bedroom when she was elsewhere, check her 'link, you wouldn't find yourself wondering."

"Yes." She looked at him then. "And I can't believe I'm standing here asking you to commit a crime. I know if she was home in bed when she contacted me, she couldn't have been here when the murder took place—not when she called minutes after Napier's death. I could request a check of her 'link, send an e-man to her place with her permission, but—"

"It seems rude."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't give a rat's ass about seeming rude, but I do about making an ass of myself. I do about potentially alienating a valuable source."

"Eight o'clock then."

She was torn between relief and worry. "Listen, I'll contact you when she comes in. Just to make sure it's clear. If you get caught—"

"Darling Eve." There was a deliberate wealth of patience in his tone. "I love you more than life itself, and have, I believe, demonstrated that regularly throughout our relationship. So I can't understand why you persist in insulting me."

"Me neither. Just in and out. Just the 'link. Don't go poking around. If it checks out, don't contact me. If it doesn't, tag me on my personal."

"Shouldn't we have code words?"

She sent him a withering look as he grinned at her. "Yeah. Bite me."

Laughing, he jerked her forward and did just that, giving her a quick nip on the chin before brushing his lips over hers. "I'll find my own way home. Get a little sleep."

Eve turned back toward the arch, back toward death, and didn't see how she could.

———«»——————«»——————«»———

Notifying next of kin was always hideous, but it was worse, somehow worse, when it had to be done in the middle of the night. She depressed the buzzer on an apartment on the Lower West Side and prepared to take a slice out of someone's world.

There was a wait, long enough she was preparing to ring again when the intercom blinked on.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Police." Eve held up her badge, stood with it in view of the peep. "We need to speak with Carleen Steeple."

"It's four in the fricking morning. What's this about?"

"Sir, we need to come inside."

The intercom clicked off, followed by an irritated rattle of chains and locks. The man who opened the door wore nothing but a pair of loose cotton pants and an annoyed expression. "What's this about? Some of us are trying to sleep, and I don't want you waking up the kids."

"We're sorry to disturb you, Mr. Steeple." The brother-in-law, Eve thought, according to the data. "I'm Lieutenant Dallas. This is Detective Peabody. We need to speak to your wife."

"Andy?" A woman with short, curly, sleep-ruffled hair poked her face out of a doorway. "What's going on?"

"Cops. Look, we reported the illegals deals we saw, and the junkies roaming around in the broad fricking daylight. We did our civic duty, and don't appreciate getting hassled in the middle of the night."

"We're not with Illegals, Mr. Steeple. Carleen Steeple?"

The woman eased out, tugging at the belt of a robe. "Yes."

"Your sister is Lily Napier?"

"Yes." There was a flicker over her face. That first dawning of fear. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry to inform you, your sister's dead."

"No." She said it quietly, the single sound on the verge of a question.

"Oh Jesus. Jesus." Andy Steeple transformed from pissed-off man to concerned husband in a snap. He walked quickly to his wife, gathered her against him. "Oh, honey. What happened?" he asked Eve. "What happened to Lily?"

"No," Carleen said again. Just: "No."

"Can we sit down, Mr. Steeple?"

He gestured toward a seating area with comfortably worn chairs, a sofa cheerfully covered in bright, overblown flowers. "Come on, honey. Come on, sweetie." With his arm around his wife, he led her to the sofa. "Let's just sit down."

"Daddy?" A little girl, all curls and sleepy eyes padded into the room.

"Go back to bed, Kiki."

"What's wrong with Mommy?"

"Go on back to bed, baby. I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm thirsty."

" Kiki—"

"Would you like me to take care of her?" Peabody asked.

"I..." He looked undone for a moment, then nodded.

"Hi, Kiki, I'm Dee." Peabody walked over, took the little girl's hand. "Why don't we get a glass of water?"

"My partner's good with kids," Eve told him. "She'll be fine."

"Could there be a mistake?"

"No, sir."

"An accident?" Carleen turned her face into her husband's shoulder. "An accident?"

"No. Your sister was murdered."

"Junkies," Steeple said. Bitterly.

"No." Eve studied Carleen's face, the pallor, the tears, the plea in her eyes. "I know this is difficult. It's going to get more so. It appears that your sister was attacked on her way home from work. In Memorial Park."